I Will Follow You
by Santai
Summary: Alone in a dark building, Holmes and Moriarty face off for the final time. Holmes can't keep his mind from what he is about to do. The letter he left at Baker Street would be the only explanation of his actions. Not that it would be enough. One-shot.


**Hey! I just fell in love with this program when i watched it. And Moriarty is so awesome! Best. Villain. Ever. Then a friend showed me a show about the pairing called 'I Will Follow You Into the Darkness' by Death Cab for My Cutie and this fic idea popped into my head so i obviously had to write it out. I would love to know what i think, cos i haven't written fics for a while so i'm a little rusty...Hope you enjoy! please review *puppy eyes*.**

Holmes stood facing him in an abandoned building, windows boarded and doors bolted. Alone. He had left Watson at home, asleep. Holmes' quiet conscience had told him it may destroy Watson were he to be here. And for once he listened. It wasn't often he listened but there were things he knew he couldn't put the doctor through. Maybe the note would explain things thoroughly. He had left it by Watson's mug, the one thing he used every morning.

The scuff of Moriarty's shoe on the floor brought his thoughts back to the present. He tightened his hand slightly around the hilt of the gun he had in his pocket and studied Moriarty's face stoically. Suddenly, Holmes couldn't remember how he had successfully brought him here. It just seemed to disappear. All he could acknowledge was here and now. The obvious. He didn't even bother trying to deduce anything from the man across from him. Most of it would be a lie.

"You seem sombre, Holmes," Moriarty announced in his cheerful tone, taking a small step closer across the dusty concrete floor, keeping his hands clasped behind his back, "Is it a dark topic you wished to discuss?" he giggled childishly, "I see your puppy isn't with you. Is he being fixed?" he grinned at his own joke.

Holmes didn't move, "He's sleeping," he pulled the gun slowly from his pocket and pointed it. He waited a moment for the tiny red dots to appear from the shadows and pin him. A frown creased his forehead for less than a split second, but Moriarty spotted it.

He chuckled, "I don't need protection from you, Great Sherlock Holmes. You can't kill me. Even though I _know_ you want to," he breathed.

Holmes gave a small smile, "You need protection from me more than anyone."

Moriarty tilted his head smirking, "You are much mistaken. You may be one of the few people I trust. Because, I know you, Holmes. I am far too interesting for you to lose, am I not?" he paused in thought, "I think you've been spending too much time with that dog of yours. Wally was it?"

Holmes jaw clenched, "His name is John."

Moriarty beamed and took another step closer, one hand now over his heart, "See, I told you did have a heart."

There was silence as Moriarty sighed mockingly and turned to survey the empty and dark room. His hands went back behind his back and his chilling expression of neutrality, "Nothing thrills us anymore, Sherlock. It's so _boring_. You and I are made for each other," he twisted his head to regard Holmes, "You can't tell me you find this world interesting."

Holmes made an effort not to move a muscle, "It has its moments."

"Those moments are fleeting," he went back to staring into the darkness, "You would miss me if I were gone. Nothing would replace the intrigue I present you. Life is such a chore, when it's boring. You. Need. Me."

"I don't need you," Holmes spat, letting more emotion into his voice than he meant to.

"Don't pretend, Holmes, there is nothing out there for you. Save for me. And you aren't the self-sacrificing sort."

"I do not need you."

Moriarty chuckled again, "Then do it."

Holmes blinked and hesitated.

"See, my dear Holmes, I know you. You're so predictable. You're too selfish," he laughed, "You are a true addict," he spun to face Holmes again, an expression that oozed smugness and glee, "You _need _me, Holmes."

The gunshot echoed around the room. The laughter died. Holmes watched as Moriarty's hand drifted to the side of his chest. He stared at the blood glistening on his palm. It dribbled from his heart and blossomed over his shirt. A sad smile twitched at his lips and he fixed Holmes with one last look. For a moment, Holmes caught a glint of surprise before the light in his eyes faded and he crumpled to the floor. Plumes of grey dust bloomed around him and settled onto his once crisp suit.

Holmes watched the genius fall, letting the gun drop to his side. He regarded the man. The only thing that had entertained him for a long time. His thoughts drifted to Watson, blissfully unaware. Watson had been there for a short while. But he didn't need Holmes anymore, he had that nurse girl. Moriarty was right. Holmes and Moriarty were a unique couple with nothing but each other to rightfully belong to. They were two sides of the same coin. Without men like Moriarty, there was no need for men like Holmes. Without men like Holmes, there would be no point in men like Moriarty. They existed for each other, no one else. They were surplus to requirement.

Without him, nothing would ever be the same. Nothing would give him reason to live like Moriarty did. A single bullet had torn that all apart. How had it been so simple?

There was a lump in his throat as he pulled his phone from his pocket and reread the text he had written out beforehand to Watson. He sent it and cast the phone to one side. He wouldn't need it again.

He lowered himself to the floor beside Moriarty's head. With his empty hand, Holmes gently closed the eyes of the man who was his mirror image in all ways but one.

His finger absently brushed the trigger of the pistol in his hand. He looked down at it, as though just remembering its presence. It glinted at him, reflecting a dark light off its barrel. It seemed a lot heavier. Steel turned to lead. Holmes eyes trailed away to gaze at his enemy, sleeping on the concrete. Thoughts drifted to Baker Street. The gun rose from the floor as he stared.

And pressed to his head.


End file.
